We take our moments of calm where we can get them, a walk into town, down by the pier, letting the breeze ruffle our hair and tease out our cobwebs. Yesterday I had two trips to the municipal dump and there is something very cathartic about that. I love the guys who run it because they are amazingly courteous and genuine about their work. As I struggled manfully up the stairs of the huge skip, he was cautious not to bale me out and instead shouted to the woman behind me, 'C'mon, mother, let me help you with that.' I guess the feminists might object but hey, it was all well intentioned and I enjoyed being there - irrational I know, but like I say, cathartic. At the moment I am reading The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. I have only just started but her calm delivery pulls you in, only seven hundred pages to go and that is a good prospect. And I envy the author in a way, she writes a book every decade. Can you imagine, a project every ten years, what a sublime prospect that is as I think about the articles I have to finish, the new ones to start, the new book project (which I am very excited about) and yet there is so much more to do as education seems to evolve weekly these days. I am with Emily Dickinson at the moment (and I am still in a Barcelona state of mind) let the Gypsy Kings blow the cobwebs - serious desk dancing music and a reminder from E.D.:
There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
